


Of Scientists and Six-Year-Olds

by bwblack



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dinosaurs, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 13:55:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15292977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bwblack/pseuds/bwblack
Summary: Sherlock finds something surprising in a crime scene photo.   Mycroft mouth an expedition.





	Of Scientists and Six-Year-Olds

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Watson's Woes JWP #14 dinosaurs.

John walked into the flat to find Sherlock rather large, bombastic man. 

"I can't solve it just from a photograph, I will need to go to the scene." 

"You're slipping, Sherlock." The man challenged. 

"Solve it yourself, then." Sherlock countered. "You claim more than your fair share of the credit in dealing with that little rat problem on Sumatra Road… Surely a man who solved puzzle that can solve this one." 

"Little?" The man scoffed. "Little? That one rat were the size of a Daemonosaurus chauliodus, and the others…"

Sherlock shrugged. "If you want my assistance, my companion and I must go to the scene." 

"That really won't be necessary. I've provided everything you could possibly need to solve the case. The file, I assure, you is quite complete. Surely, there is no need for you to go traipsing about in the rainforest, much less your little friend." 

"Dr. Watson is as key to my process as Mr. Malone is to yours. We both go to the scene, or your Dr Summerlee's murder remains unsolved. Your choice, Professor." 

"That is patently ridiculous. Your _little_ friend wouldn't be interested in taking a 14 hour flight to the jungles of South America, Then there is the 4 hour canoe ride up the piranha infested river, and 2 additional hours on foot. The mosquitoes you encounter might fly off with a man of his stature."

"Where he goes, I go." John confirmed. 

"He isn't going either. As scrawny as Sherlock is at the moment, the mosquitoes would take off with him as well. I am more than capable of finding another detective. One that won't try to wheedle a rainforest adventure out of my team's misfortune!" 

The man lumbered up from his armchair with some difficulty, but once on his feet bounded out of the door and slammed it so hard behind him the whole building shook. 

"He was a character…" John could only describe the man as a cross between Brian Blessed and the Ghost of Christmas Present. "What is his story?" 

Sherlock picked up his phone and quickly typed out a text. "George Edward Challenger. He used to be the president of the Zoological Institute of London." 

"London has a zoological institute?" 

"If Challenger's business cards are to be believed. But he seems to have moved on to doing field work in South America. One of the people on his team was murdered." Sherlock proffered the photo. "What do you see?" 

"A puncture wound. Given the location, the wound itself couldn't be fatal. Some sort of poison? Or venom was injected?"

"An overdose of tranquilizers. An accidental overdose, if I'm not mistaken. What else do you see?" 

John frowned at the photo, "If the victim suffered an accidental overdose, why do you need to visit the scene?"

"I have made your travel arrangements," Mycroft announced as he strode into the apartment without knocking. "The trip sounds absolutely ghastly. Are you certain about what Challenger is up to?" 

Sherlock nodded, "It makes sense. He a world famous zoologist. His late wife Jessie was one of the great paleontologists of our time, and their daughter Enid. Well _you_ know all about Enid, the Enids?" Sherlock shrugged. "How many clones has she made now? Enid, Ined, Nedi…" 

Mycroft held up his hand to stop his brother, "You know how Anthea reacts when you call her Dine." 

"You're certain she doesn't know anything?" 

"She stayed in London when the expedition set off. She wasn't a part of it."

"A part of what?" John felt lost. "And what does any of this matter in accidental overdose." 

"Upper left hand corner, you see the reflection in the…"

"Is that a triceratops?" John asked, shocked.

"Torosaurus." Sherlock corrected. 

"A torosaurus is an adult triceratops," Mycroft sighed. "He knows nothing about dinosaurs that was discovered after he turned seven." 

"Neither does anybody else. Outside of professionals, 6 year olds are the world's leading experts on dinosaurs!" Sherlock objected. " We really could use one for our expedition." Sherlock turned bright eyes to Mycroft. "Might we borrow one of yours?" 

"No." Mycroft shook his head. 

"Either Magnus or Myla. I'm not particular." 

"No." Mycroft repeated. "Get packed. Your plane leaves in half an hour. Do try not to get eaten." Mycroft nodded at John and left the flat without another word.

John wasn't sure what surprised him more, that they were going to see dinosaurs or that Mycroft had twins. No matter. He had a plane to catch.


End file.
